Happy
by Soon to be world renown Gracie
Summary: It was the first time he had really smiled since Michael. Beckett hated Sheppard for taking that away from him. BeckettZelenka. Deals with attempted suicide. Spoilers for Michael, Misbegotten, and Irrestible.


I don't own Stargate Atlantis.

Pairing: Beckett/Zelenka

Spoilers: _Michael_ and _Misbegotten_

It was the first time he had really smiled since Michael. Those weeks of guilt and sorrow were hard on him and he tried his best to hide it in his work. When the chance came along and he felt himself grinning--and meaning it--he was astonished. He honestly didn't care how it had come to him, the opportunity was a Godsend.

When Sheppard came to get him it had reached the point where he had wanted everyone to feel like he did--young, guilt-free, happy, truly happy, for the first time in such a long time. So many failures, horrifying, nightmarish failures, so many dead of his unspeakable sins–they all disappeared in the blink of an eye. No, disappeared was the wrong word. They were all still there–every death or abomination caused by his actions were still in his memory but now he didn't care. He could shrug off the numerous final breaths that haunted him, that he could feel on the back of his neck while he researched a way to make more Michaels, more Hoffs, a more successful way to murder Atlantis' enemies.

Sheppard came to him, took him away from the uncaring, happy man he was to his old self, riddled with shame and self-reproach and he hated him for it. He hated Sheppard. He hated himself. He even hated his lover. He didn't know why. Radek was the best thing that had ever happened to him but he hated him. He loathed the scientist for not noticing his decline and he hated himself even more.

He decided he had to end it.

It was too much, all this hating. He knew. He saw. They hated him, too. Those ghosts who breathed on his neck, sent chills down his spine, clutched his heart in their cold decayed hands. Their unseeing eyes looked through his skin and into their soul and they condemned him for it. They worked day and night to help him pave his way to hell.

'They shouldn't work so hard. They should have peace.' He didn't know why this thought passed through his mind unbidden but he stopped in his tracks. The thought was right. The dead should stop and he should die.

He strolled calmly to his lover's room, noting with distaste that it was empty. Radek was working far too many hours and the doctor in him could not help but want to grab the Czech and shove him into the bed, force him to sleep, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, telling himself that the dead deserved to sleep more.

He was determined.

He wrote a few lines quickly, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, the words flowing from the pen easier than blood from a wound. When he had finished the note, he walked to the pier closest to the room and looked over the railing. It was into water. It was better that way–no one had to clean him up from some poor expedition member's balcony.

He climbed over the railing, took a deep breath, and let go.

---

Radek yawned and strode into his room, looking forward to wrapping his arms around his own personal physician. He frowned when he noticed the room was empty.

Carson had been acting oddly lately, but the Czech shrugged it off, thinking it only to be the stress of the past few weeks. Everyone had been suffering from it–stress was common place in Atlantis–and he had been working hard trying to figure out Ancient technological secrets, and ways to defeat the Wraith. He realized that he had perhaps been slightly ignoring Carson in the hustle and the brief stab of guilt was enough to make him pledge a silent promise to the Scot–he would make sure to spend more time with his lover.

He shuffled over to the bed, feeling better now that he had a plan for his love and frowned as he found a piece of paper laying on the pillow. He smiled a little, thinking it might be a love note or perhaps some sort of 'naughty treasure hunt'.

His smile immediately disappeared as his eyes skimmed over the lines and he left the room in a sprint.

---

Carson woke, groggy and cold, to a familiar ceiling. The last thing he remembered was cold water taking his breath away. Radek's face appeared above him, frowning.

The scientist broke out in angry Czech, stopping a minute letter when it became apparent that Carson hadn't suddenly gained the ability to speak Czech during his ordeal.

"You stupid man!" That wasn't Radek... "What the hell were you thinking!? Do you know what's going to happen now!?" Ah, Rodney. "You're being sent back to Earth and the only competent scientist, excluding me, is going with you! Do you know what you're doing to me!?"

Someone dragged Rodney away and Carson looked at Radek questioningly.

"It is true. You need someone with you and I would be miserable here without you," he sat down on a chair next to the physician, "Everyone is furious. You should have told somebody. We would have tried to help you."

Dr. Biro chose that moment to slide up to his bed, "Dr. Beckett, you're very lucky that Dr. Zelenka found you in time. You're suffering from acute hypothermia and a bronchial infection because of the microbes in the water. You have two broken ribs, one bruised one, and a slight compression injury to your spine. Those should heal with time. Your right arm is severely sprained and your left ankle is broken. We've put screws in it to hold it together but you're going to need significant physical therapy when you get back to Earth. I hope you're pleased with yourself, doctor." She walked away angrily.

Radek smiled slightly, "I told you everyone was mad." He reached down and grasped Carson's left hand carefully so as not to disturb the IVs there, "Do not worry. I will not abandon you. I will be here."

And Carson smiled around the breathing tube his first, honest to God, non-drug induced smile.


End file.
